


A Moment

by Anonymous



Series: A Moment of Ways [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Bottom Richie Tozier, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, During the 27 Years (IT), First Time, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, I wrote this instead of studying, M/M, One Night Stands, POV Richie Tozier, Porn With Plot, Top Stanley Uris, cuz it's more like plot with porn, kind of, no beta reading, with no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29883507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Richie stared at that smiling picture. Stan seemed familiar, with shades of his past, but there was something else...something he used to ignore. One thought hit him in a flash. His breath suddenly caught.Now he remembered.“Stanley. That's my name.”15 years ago—He ran into Stan15 years agoat that pub.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Series: A Moment of Ways [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2202342
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	A Moment

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Richie visits Atlanta in the 27-year gap for a minor acting gig. He runs into Stan (who's not married yet) and they end up hooking up.
> 
> Stan doesn't show up at the Jade, same as in canon, so Richie doesn't realize initially that that was Stan. If Stan stays dead, maybe the Losers all go to the funeral and Richie realizes when he sees a photo of adult Stan? If Stan survives/is resurrected, I'm open to infidelity.
> 
> —————  
> English is not my first language, and it's my first time trying to write some smut in English. Actually I never have much experience writing smut in my own language as well. Anyway, it didn't turn out very well😂.  
> I know that.
> 
> Please forgive me.

Stan didn’t show up. His chair was empty, leaving a weird void between him and Eddie.

It felt… _strange_.

Richie wouldn’t admit that though, for sure. He put the odd feeling down to the effects of jet lag, and the arrival of the others diluted the cloud of doubt in his mind. He would say that he hid the uneasiness quite well with his usual jokes.

“Stanley Urine,” he heard his own voice, with an exaggerated tone. “No, no. He’s a fucking pussy. He’s not gonna show.”

But he would come, wouldn’t he? The flight may have been late, or something may have been delayed. Even if Richie only remembered him a few hours ago, that was Stan. _Stan the Man._ They made a promise; they took an oath.

Richie trusted him for his own life.

And then things started to go straight downhill. They remembered the truth about their returns to Derry. _It_ left a message for them via fortune cookies; scary monsters appeared in the room. Beverly called Stan after they managed to exit the restaurant, and that was how they found out he was _dead_.

_Horrible death._

Richie didn't know how he should feel at that exact moment. He wanted to get out of this damn place, but he was more just confused and overwhelmed.

He ended up staying.

The longer Richie stayed in Derry, the more he remembered. He thought about the shower caps Stan bought for the Losers to prevent spiders, Stan’s bar mitzvah and his amazing speech, the time he and Stan spent together after the others (except Mike) moved out, and the blurry and unspoken crush he had in high school before his family left town eventually.

He was _the best_.

Richie wondered what he would be like when he grew up.

But he didn’t have much time to get sentimental, since _it_ had made a mess of all of them. He took out his pain and anger on that fucking alien, and they finally defeated Pennywise this time, while ending up taking away another important friend of his.

On the flight back to LA, Richie felt unprecedented numb.

The next time he met the other rest of the Losers was at Stan’s funeral. He wasn’t quite sure if he should go; his brain was too tired to process all this. But the words of agreement slipped out of his mouth unexpectedly before he could ever stop them.

And he received that letter. The memory of that tall, lean teenage Jewish boy with curly hair was gradually replaced by another vague image of an adult man.

He wanted to say goodbye to Stan.

Richie had visited Atlanta 15 years earlier, and it was his first tour. His acting gig was in a not-so-famous local pub, but he remembered the excitement and joy mixed with nervous he felt at the time. 15 years later, he returned to this place that was familiar in its strangeness, unsure of what was left of him.

Stan’s picture was placed at the entrance of the funeral venue. The man in the photo had darker hair color than when he was younger, was wearing a neat suit, smiling for the camera.

He still looked quite young.

Richie stared at that smiling picture. Stan seemed familiar, with shades of his past, but there was something else...something he used to ignore. One thought hit him in a flash. His breath suddenly caught.

_“Stanley. That’s my name.”_

Now he remembered.

15 years ago—

He ran into Stan _15 years ago_ at that pub.

——————————

He was way too excited the other night.

It wasn’t his first stop on the tour, but he was nonetheless surprised by how much the people of the South enjoyed his presence. The pub was a bit old and there was something wrong with the lighting on stage, he still quite enjoyed the thunderous applause when his performance was over. And he was bought tons of drinks, also got kisses he couldn’t remember the number of. So, there was nothing to complain about for him as a young 25-year-old comedian.

Richie was sure he had been drinking a bit too much, but not to the point of being completely drunk, just feeling dizzy as hell.

He didn’t know exactly what time it was, and only vaguely remembered that he somehow ended up sitting alone in a corner of the bar.

He mindlessly turned the glass in his hand, which had long been empty, when he felt someone sitting down beside him.

“May I join you for a moment?” The man beside him asked softly, handing him a glass of ice water.

Richie turned and stared at the other man, nodding slowly. He found out that the person was a young man of his age, wearing a plaid shirt, with dark curly hair and beautiful eyes. For a moment, the other guy reminded him of someone whose face had long been blurred in the depths of his memory. He blinked, and the hint of familiarity disappeared. He thought dismissed it as blinding and assumed it was just the effects of alcohol.

Just as he was putting this down, the other man rested his hand casually on the bar, looked at him, and said something similar to his previous thought.

“Haven't I seen you somewhere before?”

Startled, Richie’s grip on his glass suddenly tightened. _That meant nothing, he might just saw me on posters or whatever,_ he thought, managing to hide the surprise in his voice as his unfiltered brain subconsciously spat out the first words that came to mind.

“That’s a shitty pick-up line.”

“Only if you read it that way,” The man looked a little surprised, but still replied quickly. He stared at Richie for a while and let out a soft laugh. “That’s not my intention, but I don't mind if you think so.”

Richie took a sip of water, trying to hide his slightly burning cheeks. This was definitely not what he expected. He was not an innocent man, nor was he much afraid of embarrassment, but his old defenses all seemed to have disappeared in front of this person. He found himself wouldn't mind doing something else with the other either; something about the man appealed to him in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“You're pretty open for a Southerner.” He commented.

“We're not all that conservative,” the man grunted lightly. “But yeah, I’m from New York.”

“New York, like NYC? Well, that would make sense,” Richie nodded. “Not to be overly prying, just curious, what drove you here? You know, New York and Atlanta...” He trailed off, trying to a proper way to describe it, but finally decided to just shut up.

_Okay, brain, you fucked this one up._

Surprisingly, the other answered. “Stuff,” said the curly-haired. “Work, my ex, and birds.”

“Birds?” Richie repeated.

“I like bird watching. You can't really find such a variety of birds in New York.”

_Bird watching._ It seems that some of the people he knew in the past also liked bird watching.

_Who_ was it?

“Cute,” He said in a careless manner, dismissing the strange thoughts he was having out of nowhere, and attempted to focus on the conversation at hand.

“Stanley,” the plaid shirt chuckled, then said suddenly. “That’s my name.”

Richie unconsciously tapped his fingers against the glass, glancing at him after hearing that. “Richie.”

“You’re the one on stage.”

“Just finding out now?” Richie made a face. “That was me, Richie Tozier, Ta-da! I thought I'd be a bit more famous than that.”

“Surely it’s hard not to notice.” Stanley raised his eyebrows, moving a little closer to him. “You’re good.”

“That’s not the only thing I'm good at,” Richie gave him a contrived wink. “Thank you though.”

“It's hard to convince me that you're anything but straight,” Stanley handed him a napkin as Richie looked on in confusion, then adding another comment. “You still have lipstick left on the corner of your mouth.”

“Oh shit,” Blushing, he wiped his mouth roughly. The remaining alcohol in his brain seemed to dissipate quite a bit in this coming and going of this conversation. “I’m such a disaster.”

“Glad you’re aware of that.”

They exchanged a look and laughed in unison.

Unbelievably, the ensuing talk became gradually smoother and more relaxed. Stanley didn't seem like a stranger meeting for the first time, but rather like a long-lost friend. He feels not _just_ like Stanley, also more like Staniel, Stanny, or Stan the Man, who has a myriad of nicknames that could be matched with, making his stomach feel like it was churning with butterflies.

When Stanley eventually invited him to leave, he didn’t say no.

Richie wasn’t quite sure why he went with the other guy. He’d had experience with men before, but had never finished a home run. This man, Stanley, however, was different from everyone else, there was something different about him that made him feel longing, and reassuring.

And he enjoyed it.

The little trip to the hotel was hazy and blurry; he couldn’t remember how he walked through the entrance to complete check-in and get into the elevator, and could only barely recall the pounding of his heart until the room door closed behind them. Stanley leaned in and pulled him into a kiss.

The two’s breath breezed over the side of each other’s faces. The other’s lips were soft and warm with a slight hint of mint. Richie wrapped his arms around the man’s neck, letting Stanley open his lips and teeth with the tongue. The pace was slow, but this felt _right_. It was better than all the kisses he’d gotten this night combined, almost bringing tears to his eyes. He held the other a little tighter, deepened the kiss, and heard a soft hum coming from his ear.

They still had the whole night to go.

The two fell on the bed near the door with the action of kissing. The mood was hot and chaotic, also full of dynamics. The sheets were messed up unknowingly and a pillow somehow fell on the carpet. He was on top of the man, and Stanley's hand reached into his T-shirt at some point, bringing a shiver mixed with a bit of coolness. Richie's jeans were so tight that it almost hurt; his knee between the other's legs touched something else hard and warm in the very next moment.

Panting, he let go of Stanley and eagerly reached for the lube sitting on the nightstand. The curly-haired man beneath him gasped, locking eyes with him; in the extremely close proximity between them, those hazel eyes seemingly filled with starlight in the dim glow of the night lamp. This might be a little bizarre for someone who had only just met, but he had the feeling that he could trust his life to the other person. Following this feeling in his mind, he passed the lube to Stanley’s hand.

The man blinked, as if picking up on his hint, wrapping the empty hand around the back of his neck, and asked softly.

“Is that what you want?”

Richie nodded gently, replacing the answer with another kiss.

Stanley rolled over on that motion and pinned him down, gesturing for him to cooperate by taking off his already wrinkled T-shirt. Continuous kisses fell from his forehead to his chest to his collarbone then to his belly button as the other unzipped his jeans with deft fingers and pulled them off, dug the right hand into his boxers, and took hold of his fully erect dick.

“Wai…wait,” Richie panted, he had to use all his strength to restrain himself from the desire to come immediately. “Take off your clothes. I want to see you.”

Stanley paused in submission. He took off his shorts as the other man undressed, watching the man’s slim and pale torso gradually exposed to the air.

His dick twitched, spilling a drop of precum. He reached down and slowly jerked his cock, trying to relieve a hint of the longing in his heart. He didn’t know how to describe it exactly, but Stanley looked...beautiful. It was like he was in some unrealistic dreams.

The other came over naked and gave him another kiss, leaned down, and swallowed his cock into his mouth without any warning.

Richie’s breath suddenly choked in his throat. It wasn’t the first time he’d received a blowjob, of course, and frankly Stanley’s skills weren’t one of the best, but it was as if his tongue was somehow magical, making him feel like a fucking virgin again, and pushed him quickly to the edge.

He came undisputedly in about 30 seconds.

He reddened and stared at Stanley swallowing his cum as though nothing had happened, whose lips a little swollen and still lividly red.

“Fucking hell,” He muttered. “It’s definitely not my fault. You’re amazing.”

“Thank you for the compliment,” The other grunted and then chuckled, his voice still a little muffled. He poured some of the lube on his hand, circled it tentatively around Richie’s hole, and then tried to put a finger in. “Relax.”

Richie’s body stiffened; he tried so hard to relax, yet it only made his nerves tenser. It wasn’t that it hurt, but the feeling of something being placed in the body was a little bit strange and unnatural indeed. Stanley, as if sensing his unease, leaned down and lightly kissed his collarbone and along the side of his neck, ending with a kiss on his earlobe and asked in a low voice. “Is this your first time?”

Richie shuddered at the other’s breath and automatically relaxed a bit. His mind was as muddled as a mush, but still struggled with not responding straightforwardly.

“Ther...there has never been anyone I trusted enough to...to get this far—”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Stanley’s finger felt like touching a spot inside him, as though a surge of electricity ran through his body. His waist instantly went limp, and his softening cock twitched halfway to hardness.

“I’m flattered,” The other commented with a soft smile.

Richie panted, gradually adjusting to the added fingers inside him. One, two, and three, the man’s fingers stretched inside him, but always refrained from touching the small area he wanted most. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper, only to be answered with more kisses.

“That’s enough,” He said, the tone trembling, while containing firmness. “I want to feel you.”

Stanley slowly withdrew his fingers after hearing the words, and not much later Richie heard the sound of a piece of condom opening. The curly-haired man put on the condom, held his dick, beginning to try to push inward.

“Fuck,” The dick was obviously quite a bit thicker than three fingers; the process of pushing it inward was destined to be a long one. Richie’s glasses slipped off at some point, and his dick softened a bit in the continuing discomfort. Stanley righted his glasses, then held his cock and wanked it again. As he moved, sweat slid down his jaw and the ends of his hair, dripping onto Richie’s freckled chest.

When Stanley was finally fully inserted, both of them breathed a sigh of relief.

“Stan,” Richie called out the other’s name subconsciously, the warm cock inside him feeling overly full while being very satisfied in his heart.

“Can I move?” Stanley asked softly, like he was afraid of breaking him.

Richie nodded with a gasp.

The man started to move slowly, noting the look on his face as he began to gradually speed up his thrusts, and before long, the initial discomfort of fullness turned into pure pleasure, his dick again fully erect, rubbing against Stanley’s belly, so hard as to ache.

Richie fumbled with his cock and intertwined it with Stanley’s hand, unconsciously murmuring the man’s name repeatedly. In the midst of infinite pleasure, a thought came to him in a moment that he didn’t know where it came from, but it felt so real and so correct—that it seemed like they were destined to become one.

The thought made his dick twitch and as he was almost about to feel the onset of his orgasm. “I’m about to come,” He moaned.

“Come, Rich,” Stanley’s voice was tinged with desire and huskiness. “You’re doing well.” He looked at Richie with an expression so soft and full of fondness, and for a moment, Richie almost thought Stanley was _in love_ with him.

The two reached their orgasms almost at the same time, one after the other. Richie felt like a flash of white light right in front of his eyes, and by the time he came back to his senses, Stanley had already pulled out of him, tossed the condom into the trash can, and stood beside the bed bending down to kiss him lightly on the forehead.

Richie tried to say something, however, sleepiness unknowingly caught up with him and he fell asleep in a state of fatigue and contentment, leaving only a half-hearted murmur.

In a haze, he felt someone spooning him in a very familiar posture.

And he felt _love_.

The next morning, Richie woke up with a terrible headache. Daylight was shining through the half-drawn curtains in the corner of the bed. He blinked, and blinked again, when he finally was fully awake, he realized that his head wasn’t the only place in his body that felt uncomfortable. He reached for his glasses, which were on the nightstand, only to find Stanley still cuddling him, their limbs tangled together. He heard the other murmur his name in his dream.

He wanted to turn his head and kiss the man’s disheveled curls, prolonging the tender moment a little longer, but his rational mind reminded him that he shouldn’t get used to such intimacy.

It was just a one-night stand.

He put on his glasses, looked at the clock on the nightstand showing a very late hour, forced himself to take a deep breath, closed his eyes and opened them again, and resolutely pulled away from the other’s arm and got out of bed to pick up the clothes that had fallen to the floor last night.

He left, without even saying goodbye.

By the time he got on the tour bus and left Atlanta, he looked out the window and somehow remembered the man again. _Steven, or Stewart_ , he wondered, all of a sudden, he realized that he couldn't quite seem to recall the other man’s name anymore.

——————————

The memories of the past suddenly came alive in his mind. He could feel the wetness welling up in his eyes and his nose began to tingle. He couldn’t say a word; the sound of breathlessness choked in his throat.

He couldn’t help but think about how things would have turned out if he had stayed the other morning.

Whether the man he loved would still be lying in a cold coffin as he was now.

Whether they might have a different ending.

Beverly, standing beside him, seemed to notice that something was wrong with him, asking Richie in a low voice that he was feeling okay. Of course she did.

He blinked hard, thankful for the tears that were being blocked by the frames of his huge glasses, suppressing a cry that was about to escape him.

Finally, he replied quietly, with a truly hoarse voice, as if he had been exhausted in the short time earlier.

“I just…” He gave away a sound of a sob. “I just need a moment.”

**_END_ **

**Author's Note:**

> I think the fact in which Stan stayed dead makes the whole story more poetic and beautiful.
> 
> I love tragedy and regret.
> 
> Please forgive me again.
> 
> Well, I would like to write an alternative ending (a small piece) of [what would have happened if Stan had stopped Richie the next morning and not let him go] if anyone wants to read it_(:з」∠)_
> 
> YES THERE IS AN ALTERNATIVE ENDING! PLEASE CHECK IT LOL


End file.
